'The Invite' (2026): Four Brilliant Actors and the Year's Most Electric Dinner Party

I find Olivia Wilde such an interesting filmmaker. Booksmart was a fantastic directorial debut, and I still enjoyed her admittedly underwhelming follow-up, Don't Worry Darling. Going into The Invite, I didn't quite know which version of Wilde to expect, but now that I've seen it, I can safely share that it's one of the most purely fun times I've had while watching a movie all year. It's the rare ensemble comedy that earns every minute you spend with it, even when it becomes a tad repetitive.

That's almost entirely down to the four people at its center — it's obvious within minutes that everyone was having the time of their life making this film, in the improvised-sounding asides and reactions that land a beat too honest to have been scripted. Edward Norton (Fight Club) is the standout for me, striking an impossible balance between quiet-nice-guy warmth and a passive-aggressive judginess that never fully announces itself until it's already landed. Wilde herself gives the most emotionally expansive performance of the four, letting Angela's anxiety crack open in ways that feel raw rather than performed. Penélope Cruz (Ferrari) is simply hypnotic, the kind of charm that makes you understand exactly why everyone keeps orbiting back to her. And Seth Rogen (The Studio), whom some have called this quartet's weak link, is doing exactly what the role needs, absorbing and volleying back everyone else's provocations — I thought he was great at it.

What makes The Invite more than just an actors' showcase is how smart its premise is: pit a dormant, resentful monogamous couple against a seemingly liberated, "open" one, and let the night reveal that neither side has the moral high ground it thinks it does — everyone here is a little innocent and a little guilty, and the movie never lets anyone become a simple lesson. Rashida Jones and Will McCormack (Celeste & Jesse Forever) write a script that's witty and purposefully over-the-top, but lands on something genuinely true: that honesty, however uncomfortable, is the only real currency a relationship has. Wilde's direction matches that ambition, turning a single San Francisco apartment into a space that never feels stagy, even if she occasionally seems to be showing off her compositions a bit more than the scene needs. The camera keeps things lived-in, and the score leans hard into the film's most charged moments in a way I genuinely enjoyed.

My biggest reservation has nothing to do with the direction or the writing's ambition, and everything to do with rhythm: about halfway through, The Invite settles into a loop — an argument, a beat of reflection, a flicker of hope that the night might turn out fine after all, a jolt of "wait, are we really doing this," and then some contrived mishap or revelation resets the whole cycle. Once you notice the pattern, a few of the later stretches feel like they're serving a course you've already had rather than plating something new.

None of that undoes what The Invite gets right, and what it gets right is considerable: four actors relishing every second of a perversely smart, sexy script that never once condescends to either couple at its table. By the end, you're not weighing who was right or wrong, but how much better every hard conversation in your own life might have gone if it started with the radical truth instead of its manufactured version.

Rating: B+